Ashes to Ashes
by The Winged Pyro That Drowned
Summary: Max and Fang, stuck in Vegas with a jackpot of coins-in-a-cup, get a little job from one very, very annoying Whitecoat. He wants them to find a runaway experiment, but he doesn't want them to bring her in... but to help her survive. Being experimented on for sixteen years with nobody to support you is harsh. Too harsh.


Ashes to Ashes

**This is just a little piece I wrote ages ago. It occurs just after Max and Fang hit the jackpot in Vegas... and I had forgotten what Dr. God's name was at the time... Disclaimer: I don't own Canon. The rest I feel I am allowed to claim. **

-.-.-.-

"No way," Max folded her arms, carefully rearranging the cups of coins she was holding. Stupid old Dr God had shown up again, and as usual, he had no idea how pissed off with him Max was.

"Please, I just need you to find a girl for me," Dr God looked confident, almost assured he'd get Max's help.

"You really think I'm the one to ask for dating advice?" Max was genuinely surprised. As far as she was concerned, her life was not the prime example of romantic know-how.

"That's now what I meant,"

"Phew, I was kinda worried there," Max said, looking Fang and whispering, "Do you really think he should be asking people for dating advice?"

Fang, silent and un-emotional as ever, simply shook his head.

"Here," Dr God said, pushing an envelope into Max's free fingers, "If you find her, just let me know,"

"Why?" Max asked, almost ready to bash his ugly face in.

"Excuse me?"

"Why should I tell you where this poor girl is if we find her? So you can go to a lab and change her? Make a new Max?" Max scowled. Max II had already been problematic enough.

"I know you hate me, but just trust me on this one. When you see her, you'll know," Dr God said, quickly walking away down the street.

"So, search and rescue for the bad guys," Fang said, wondering how they were going to get all this money exchanged without raising a few eyebrows. "Or maybe bounty-hunting,"

"Let's just see who's life we're going to save by directing them _away _from that jerk," Max snarled through gritted teeth. If she had laser vision, Dr God would have a giant hole in the back of his head by now. Still scowling, she looked around for a bus stop or something where they could organise what they were going to do.

After walking down the brightly lit streets for a while, Fang pointed out a small out of the way motel that didn't look too sleazy. "Reckon it's about time to park up for the night,"

"You pick the nicest places," Max said sarcastically cheery.

-.-.-.-

"Thanks," Sarah mumbled wearily to the liquor store clerk, taking her change and the bottles of vodka she'd just bought. She had a hangover. Last time she'd tried to do this she'd failed, and had woken up with the worst headache imaginable. The curtains had been left open, and it was about noon. Broken bottles, vomit, and other things were strewn about her motel room.

She didn't have much money left, so she'd have to do it right this time. It was starting to get dark, and she'd almost visited every liquor store in town. She was far too tired to walk home, or do anything else, so she hailed a taxi to take her back to the motel.

Sarah slept most of the way, trying to avoid the nightmares that plagued her past. The taxi driver woke her up when they arrived, and she thanked him, paid the fee, and quickly hired another room from the main office. Thankfully they let her hire two rooms at once.

As she entered her old motel room, she almost staggered back from the smell. Alcohol, urine, puke. It was disgusting. Sarah quickly put all the vodka she'd bought into a stolen shopping trolley and moved it to her new room.

As she put the key into the lock, she heard voices arguing about something in the carparks. It didn't really matter to her. The door opened and she wheeled the trolley in, parking it in the small compact kitchen. The wheels turned quietly over the black and white chequered lino floor.

Sarah removed her shoes and sighed as she wiggled her toes through the plain brown carpeting that lined the rest of the motel room. The bedroom was hidden in the corner between the kitchen and the bathroom, while the rest of the small space was taken up by a small dining set, a couch, and a coffee table. No TV.

"Tomorrow," Sarah muttered, looking out the window to see a young couple, obviously in love, walking towards the reception. The blonde one turned around and looked at Sarah. She shut the curtains and walked away. First, she'd have a shower, and then sleep.

Then, then she could deal with it for good.

-.-.-.-

"Now why does this look familiar?" Max said; looking at the photo of a tall girl with long red hair in a surgery gown, stuck in a dog crate and staring at the camera, looking so sad Max almost felt like crying herself. She knew what the girl had been through. It was highly possible that she was the only avian recombinant at that facility, meaning she would have had to undergo all the tests that the Flock had shared out among themselves. The photo was taken at the School, or someplace like it. Like the Institute.

The pair had rented the motel room for the night, hoping they wouldn't be chased away again. Who knew? Maybe they weren't tracking them via Max's chip.

"Maybe it's the wings?" Fang said, rubbing circles in the spot between Max's wings, right where she liked it.

"Of course, not the dog crate or the hospital gown or the School in the background…" Max said, shaking her head. The girl had wings, just like them, and according to Dr God, she'd escaped, just like them. The only problem was unlike them, she didn't know how to use her wings, and was suffering from extreme depression. Being a genetic experiment can do that to a person.

"Somehow, she's in Vegas," Fang supplied, looking over the small file that had accompanied the picture. "And if nothing else, that old bastard is asking for us to at least take her into the Flock, if not back to him."

"They might be tracking her," Max warned.

"Which doesn't really matter because we got kicked out of the Flock anyway. Looks like she's the same age as us," Fang replied.

"So then how did they know she's in Vegas then?" Max asked, thinking she had Fang cornered.

"According to this, Las Vegas is right on the edge of their top secret underground research facility," Fang said, making it sound far more 007 than it actually was.

"Sounds very James Bond," Max commented, ignoring the previous paragraph.

"We could always hand this over to the government." Fang suggested, shrugging.

"And how are we going to do that? We've already done air-shows and stuff for the CSM, and as far as the government is concerned, all School related subjects have been destroyed. Well, you know, aside from the corrupt officials hiding everything,"

"Of course, we could always fly into the Pentagon and drop off the envelope," Fang suggested.

"That didn't go so well last time," Max sighed. "Let's get some sleep and sort it out tomorrow,"

-.-.-.-

Sarah opened her eyes. It was still dark out. Climbing over her pillow, she looked at the clock.

2:00 AM

She groaned and fell back down. Life sucked. But she didn't feel quite as tired anymore. She just needed to stay awake long enough to finish off her plan, and then she could sleep forever. Shuffling around in the dark, Sarah felt for the light switch. She accidentally knocked a vase over into the wall, and then tripped over that same vase to come crashing down against the kitchen counter. She cried out in pain, bruising her ribs and slicing her feet with cheap pottery.

A horrible way to start the day.

-.-.-.-

Max's eyes flew open. Instantly alert, she realised she was curled up in bed with Fang. He slept on, oblivious to the world. Max blushed hotly, many thoughts jumping into her head, when she suddenly heard someone cry out in pain. She bolted upright, waking Fang and letting the covers fall off her body. _Where the hell did my clothes go?! _Max wondered, wearing only her lacy underwear.

"What was that?" Fang yawned, looking around the small room for his jeans and t-shirt.

"I think the neighbour might have failed at getting a midnight snack," Max answered, checking the time. Just after two in the morning.

Then they heard glass smashing against the wall that separated them from the next motel room over.

"Unless someone is after us and broke into the wrong apartment," she amended, quickly putting her clothes on. "What do you think?"

"Considering our luck? Probably a hit squad," Fang yawned again, holding his head. He turned on the bedside lamp and groaned, covering his eyes.

"What? Don't like what you see?" Max giggled, shaking her butt at him before pulling up her jeans.

"Oh, no, not that," Fang groaned again, getting up and staggering over to the dresser where his own clothes lay. "You look good in pink," he teased, the corner of his mouth turned up the tiniest bit.

"Your face is almost as red as your boxers," Max retorted. Fang checked himself in the mirror.

"Mmhmm,"

"Seriously, are you OK?" Max looked at him, putting her hands on her hips.  
"I might have had a beer or twelve last night," Fang admitted, slipping into his t-shirt.

"Great. Welcome to the world of hangovers, big guy."

-.-.-.-

Sarah lay slumped against the kitchen cabinet, using her pocket knife to cut the seal on her eighth bottle of vodka. And they were big bottles.

Her stomach heaved as she brought the fiery drink to her mouth, but she fought it back. She gulped down the whole bottle in one go, fighting to stay awake. Almost half of the bottle had spilled down her top, which was thoroughly soaked by now.

Her world was spinning, tilting, moving in ways it shouldn't have been. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her foot where it hurt, feeling a sharp pain in her heel as she brushed against the shard of vase stuck in there. Grabbing it, she tried to pull it out. Now, with nothing plugging the gap, her heel bled freely.

She brought the shard up to her face, inspecting it. By now, she couldn't feel her toes or her ankle. Maybe she could simply cut something important with this? No. Too much pain.

Sarah was absolutely sick of pain, and flung the shard at the wall. It sliced her palm as it flew away, shattering against something. Sarah was starting to lose feeling in the ends of her fingers.

No, she needed to get this done.

She cut open the plastic seal on the next bottle, flinging the mostly empty one she'd just drained at the wall. It broke loudly, and she heard thumping coming from the other side of the wall. So Sarah grabbed one of the many empty bottles beside her and threw it at the wall, too.

"Take that, wall!" she shouted. She didn't think it sounded too good to whoever was listening, but she was past caring. All she wanted to do was die.

-.-.-.-

"Bloody drunk people," Max muttered, smashing her fist against the wall. There was a muffled reply along with more smashing glass, and Fang opened the bedroom door. There was no white van filled with gun-toting goons parked anywhere, which was a good sign, he thought.

"Our luck's playing tricks on us," Fang reported. "No hit-squad,"

"Then I want to get some more sleep!" Max stalked out of the room, irritated. She stomped around to the neighbouring suite, and bashed on the door loudly. "Let me in!" she yelled. Not hearing a reply, she turned the door-handle and was surprised to find that it wasn't locked.

She walked in, and was almost overpowered by the fumes of alcohol. She gasped. There was the girl Dr God had asked them to find. The girl was cut, blood flowing freely from gashes in her feet and hands. Nearly empty bottles of booze lay strewn around the kitchen where the girl laid, her clothes soaked in sweat and alcohol.

"Go away," she slurred, reaching for another bottle.

"What the hell are you doing?! You'll kill yourself!" Max screamed, horrified. She rushed over and snatched away the next drink, pushing all the others aside. "You are not committing suicide while I can stop it!"

The girl looked at Max with the same sadness she'd seen in the photo. "Why won't you let me die…" she moaned, starting to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her sobbing intensified.

"FANG!" Max shrieked, wondering why he wasn't here already. She looked around for something to stop the bleeding. Finding nothing, she jumped up to the bed and ripped the duvet cover into strips, and started wrapping them tightly around the girl's ankle and hand. "Where the bloody hell have you been?!" she asked once Fang arrived. He saw the scene and whistled.

"She's one hell of a mess," he said, noting the way the girl's shirt was clinging to her body, and the blood all over the kitchen. There was a large pool of it collecting by her feet.

"Thanks for stating the painfully obvious," Max replied, scowling. "Now go call 911 or something!" Fang quickly reached for the phone and walked out onto the street to find out the address.

"Hai… I'm Sarah…" the girl said slowly, starting to laugh. "Who're you?"

"I hate drunk people," Max muttered under her breath, checking Sarah's other foot for cuts.

"Hai Drunk People, I'm Sarah," Sarah repeated, smiling like she had absolutely no cares in the world.

"My name is Max," Max snarled at her. "And I think somebody spiked that last drink."

Sarah wasn't listening. She was trying to get up. Her leg collapsed under her the moment she tried to put any weight on it, and fell down on top of Max, who was still crawling around trying to carefully shove all the broken shards of glass into a pile.

Max instinctively put her elbow down, trying to support the weight of both girls, but accidentally put it down on the pile of glass she'd just collected. She screamed in pain as the glass cut through her skin and tissue without mercy.

Fang came racing back inside from the parking lot, cellphone in hand. He quickly shouted something into the phone, hung up, and threw it down on the bed before picking up Sarah and pushing her onto the bed, too.

"Max, are you OK?" He asked, cradling Max's lacerated arm and pulling out the visible bits of glass and pottery.

"Does it look like it to you?" Max asked, sighing, defeated. "Pass me some vodka," she pointed to one of the fuller bottles lying on floor. She waited, sitting on her heels, as Fang fetched it for her. It was the one Sarah had been about to drink. "Thanks,"

Max first poured some over her arm, hissing as it hit her open wounds, and then took a large swig. Fang raised an eyebrow at her, and she replied, "Painkiller, dumbass," before taking another swig.

"The ambulance and police should be here in a couple of minutes," Fang answered, taking the bottle away from Max before she was drunk as well. "This isn't going to look good, you know. Three bird-kids, one with a hangover and the other two cut, bleeding, and drunk. How are you going to explain this to the rest of the Flock?"

"Uhh," Max thought for a moment, starting to sway a little. "Lie?"

"How are you going to explain this to Angel?"

"Wear tinfoil and kick her out of the Flock?"

"Try again."

"Lie?"

Fang facepalmed. She was starting to lose it already. "She'd just read your mind."

"Uhh… vodka?" Max wiggled the bottle in Fang's face, and it was now empty. Probably why Max was so silly all of a sudden. How'd she drink all that without him noticing?

Fang could see ambulance lights flashing through the thin curtains, and he heard a paramedic or a police officer charge through the door to his and Max's room. "Wrong one," he called, still sitting with Max, trying to grab the last of the vodka off of her.

The paramedic rushed in, and crouched down next to them, and Fang shook his head. "Check her first," he ordered, jerking his head towards Sarah, who was lying on the bed, staring at the digital clock and moaning about pretty lights. The paramedic was a woman experienced in dealing with drunken people like this. It was Vegas, after all.

"Excuse me, miss," she said, moving Sarah so she could get a look at her. She shined a penlight into Sarah's eyes, taking note of the extremely delayed reaction of the pupil. "How much has she had to drink?" she asked Fang, who had successfully re-stolen the vodka from Max.

"I don't know for certain, but there are a _lot _of empty vodka bottles around here," he said, pinning Max in a hug and trying to help her up. It wasn't going so well.

The paramedic peeked into the kitchen and whistled. "She drunk all that?" she asked, impressed that Sarah was still alive.

"I helped!" Max giggled, trying to squirm out of Fang's grip.

"Max's only had _one _bottle… and you can't even count the broken ones," he replied, struggling to keep Max under control.

"Then she should be dead." The paramedic stated, shaking her head. "That is far too much alcohol for one person to consume and survive,"

"We aren't human," Fang grunted, hooking Max around the waist before she could get out the door now that she'd escaped him.

"You love me, don't you?" Max giggled, spinning around him, holding his hand.

The woman just stared at them like they were crazy.

Fang sighed. "You've heard about the famous Flock, right? Human-avian hybrids?"

She nodded.

"Well… yeah. Hi." He waved with his free hand, smiling nervously. "Usually stuff like this doesn't happen,"

"I should certainly hope not!" the paramedic replied, returning to Sarah. First she checked all the makeshift bandages Max had used, and then held her hand out at Fang. "Pass me some vodka,"

"That's what _she _said," Fang replied, pointing at Max like it was her fault. But he handed over the bottle anyway. The paramedic doused the bandages thoroughly before checking the label.

"I don't even know how even you guys might survive this," she said. "Well, she's suffering from massive blood loss, and she's exceedingly drunk. Possible alcohol poisoning-"

"That's the point!" Sarah interrupted. "_Why won't you guys just let me die in peace?_"

"No suiciding. I won't allow it." The paramedic told her.

"I'm Sarah," Sarah said, looking into the paramedic's eyes, "and I want to _die_."

"I'm taking you lot to the hospital," the paramedic said, picking up Sarah and pushing her along. "You'll have to stay with them in the back," she warned Fang, who nodded.

"You guys must be understaffed at this time of the year," he said, following behind with Max, who was still twirling around him and humming some weird tune that went from Indiana Jones to Star Wars to Pirates of the Caribbean and back again.

"Not really. This is Vegas, we're always understaffed." The paramedic replied, shoving Sarah down on one of the seats in the back of the ambulance.

Fang hesitated. The chemical smell brought back painful memories.

"I'm sorry, but this is the only way I'll be allowed to speed," the paramedic said, pulling in Max, who started trying to fight her off.

"Let me go!" Max yelled, squirming some more. Fang swallowed and took Max back, sitting her down on the other seat and holding her tight.

"It'll be OK," he kept whispering in her ear as streetlights and neon signs whizzed past them, flashing through the heavily tinted side windows. "It'll be OK,"


End file.
